


A Stitch In Time

by poisonous_panda



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Grieving, Memories, Niflheim, angelgard, spite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 22:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17353892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonous_panda/pseuds/poisonous_panda
Summary: Ever wondered where the torn up bits hanging off Ardyn's trenchcoat came from? You know the bits that hang by his elbows? This may just be your answer. And Verstael had a hand in it. Inspired by two lovely women on twitter - Hongvanngh and FenrirPrime





	A Stitch In Time

Pacing around his new bedroom, Ardyn had a sickening knot in his stomach. It was a mixture of excitement and anxiety. 

For today, the former would-be King is getting new clothes after two thousand years chained to a stony tomb in nothing but a pair of prisoner's trousers. 

His bare feet padded in the plush red shaggy carpet. tickling his toes. It was such a welcome sensation after standing on Angelgard's cold stone floor for two thousand years.

The new bedroom this 'Nilfheim' empire had bestowed upon him was very modern. Very neutral with a mixture of black glass and white wooden furniture, and a huge floor to ceiling window with no curtains that Ardyn's new friend - esteemed Niflheim scientist Verstael Besithia - had ordered to be put in. Ardyn really appreciated the gesture; after being entombed for two millennia he was no longer a fan of enclosed spaces. This way he could see the moon, sun and stars whenever he liked. In a foolish way, the former healer saw it as a way of acknowledging the celestial bodies; they were his only constant companions for the entirety of his imprisonment. Even the Gods had forsaken him.

With just a white bath towel around his waist, and his black boxers on underneath - for he had long since dried from his invigoratingly hot soapy shower, he just didn't see the point in getting dressed while waiting for new clothes - Ardyn jumped a little when there was a knock on the door, his messy wine-coloured hair dancing around his head as if it were a mass of snakes. He had become more accustomed to silence than any man should ever have come, sudden noises still startled his nerves despite his immortality constantly regenerating them.

He opened the door just a crack to maintain his dignity, and there was the smiling freckled face of Verstael. Just because the scientist had found Ardyn hanging like a piece of meat in a butcher's shop, doesn't mean he should always see whenever Ardyn is undressed.

"Greetings my friend. I have the clothes I promised you. As regal as you deserve with added flare, and in the Lucian colours as you requested. The Emperor believes you're just a fan of black, so he won't ask any awkward questions."

In his armoured hands, Verstael held a bulky package in brown paper tied together with string and a pair of black, intricately designed steel toe-capped boots.

Opening the door a little wider and giving Verstael more of a view than he had wanted to, Ardyn gratefully took the package and boots.

"Thank you Verstael. I am honestly _dying_ to put these on." If only to piss off my brother's ghost, Ardyn thought. Spite had gripped the immortal for too many years, despite his sugary sweet mannerisms.

Verstael knew all about Ardyn's past. And of the infection coursing through the immortal would-be King's veins. Niflheim were exploring ruins and such looking for Solheim technology for 'Project Deathless' to save their people from the horrors of war when he happened upon the prisoner in Angelgard. The Niff soldiers were unsure of how to communicate with the ancient man hanging in front of them, but Verstael boldly strode over and questioned him. Ardyn's golden eyes had gleamed at the upfront interaction; he had loved how curious and fearless the scientist was, and the scientist was equally as impressed with Ardyn's knowledge of Solheim technology and willingness to teach. They both enjoyed how Ardyn's intellect had stunned the Niff soldiers - they expected him to be primitive because of his age, suddenly forgetting everything they had learned of the technologically advanced Solheim civilisation. They formed an ironclad friendship from the start.

Leaving Ardyn to get dressed, Verstael nodded at the new tenant, turned on his heel and left.

Giddy with excitement, Ardyn let the bath towel fall from his waist as he practically pulled the clothes on to his body, all royal etiquette forgotten. 

Verstael really wasn't joking when he mentioned the 'added flare' - the pinstripe trousers, pleated white shirt and waistcoat were exactly as Ardyn had requested - he didn't even mind the Niflheim badge emblazoned in the centre of his waistcoat, where usually an ode to Bahamut would sit in the House of Lucis attire - but the intricate whorls and patterns embellished onto his trench coat and boots were absolutely stunning. Accompanying the outfit were a pair of simple black leather fingerless gloves - both for practicality to help him wield his swords and also to hide the scars on his hands; his body was covered in long scars from the whippings, puncture scars from attempting to battle his way out of Insomnia when his brother ordered his execution, and the hardest to hide were the scars on his hands. Two massive puncture scars from a metal bar that impaled his hands together and kept him in constant pain - amongst the other gruesome restraints - during his imprisonment.

Verstael had noticed Ardyn looking at these welts in disgust, despite how much the broken man tried to hide his feelings when he was first freed. The immortal would not talk about them either when the scientist first tried to breach the subject, but Verstael was no imbecile. The gloves weren't in Ardyn's request, but Verstael had them added anyway.

"Oh dear friend... What did I do to deserve you?" Ardyn mutters under his breath, a huge smile spread across his stubbled face. One upside to his Scourge infection was that he never had to shave or cut his hair again because it would no longer grow. He so missed having long, straight flowing red locks, but when he had to go into hiding from his brother, Ardyn felt his trademark ponytail made him too recognisable. So he cut it off while it was still tied up and it blossomed into the untamed mane he has today. He let stubble grow onto his usually clean-shaven face too in a bit to hide his identity. The Scourge had even turned his warm chocolate eyes into golden suns and gave his red hair an unnatural purple hue that he hoped would work to his advantage. To no avail. 

But alas, that was all in the distant past. It was just a shame Ardyn had to see this version of himself in the mirror every time he looked, and not the clean, long-haired healer he still vaguely identifies as.

But the healer persona he still isn't ready to let go of was pulling at his imagination as he stared at himself so regally dressed in the black framed free standing mirror. He could see his new bed in the background of the mirror and couldn't wait to spend a night sleeping in it's red silk sheets. He hadn't laid down to sleep for _years_. The bedroom door was opposite the bed so Ardyn couldn't see it as he was preening in the mirror, but he didn't mind. Verstael had promised Ardyn the upmost privacy.

So Ardyn strode over to his door, opened it, and called out for Verstael who - to his credit - came almost immediately. The man was desperate for the knowledge inside Ardyn's head that he was at the older man's beck and call. And honestly, Ardyn didn't even care if that was the only reason Verstael had helped him escape Angelgard. He was grateful nonetheless, and it enabled him to piece his life back together and he will eventually pay a visit to his _beloved_ baby brother's descendants. There was also an interesting rumour he wanted to check out of a 'Blademaster' in the Taelpar Crag who fought all Shields of the Lucis Kings. The Taelpar Crag is named after a town that was there before Bahamut decimated it with the force of the killing blow he dealt Ifrit all the way over at the Rock of Ravatogh. Ardyn had witnessed the destruction firsthand as he was there on a healing mission, but his comrade was not so lucky... could the Blademaster be...? Only time will tell.

"Everything alright Ardy- My my, you scrub up well." Verstael crossed his arms, beaming at his comrade in approval. It seemed sincere enough that Ardyn returned the smile.

"I was wondering, do you still have that tatty old bag with my previous belongings in them?" Ardyn asked.

In the corner of the Angelgard prison cell, there had been a deerskin pouch tied together with string that contained Ardyn's previous healer garb - albeit a little shredded from when the populace caught him, bludgeoned his beloved black chocobo to death so he couldn't escape and threw him at the merciless feet of his treacherous brother to be tortured then imprisoned. 

Even two millennia on, Ardyn still heard her angry, frightened squarks as she valiantly fought for her life in his nightmares. He had trained her strong personality well. He loved that bird.

Mentally shaking the loss from his head, he awaited Verstael's reply.

"Um... I believe so," the scientist answered, placing a hand on his chin as he thought, "I told everybody not to touch your things in case there was anything you wished to retrieve. Would you like me to get it?" 

"If you wouldn't mind dear friend, there is something I wish to add to this exquisite outfit," Ardyn turned a little to the side and outstretched his arms, demonstrating his new outfit to his newfound friend. "You'd have my gratitude. Would you by chance have a sewing kit lying around this Base too?"

"No need to thank me, you're amongst friends now." Verstael replied with a smile, then he once again nodded to signal his farewell as he went off in search for Ardyn's deerskin bag. 

Unbeknown to Verstael, Ardyn knew that the young scientist had already rifled through the bag back when they unchained him. But he did not begrudge the younger man, if anything he was impressed by his thirst for ancient knowledge so let him have his fill. All that was in there was his tattered healer robe, a red and gold scarf his mother had gifted him before she passed away - thankfully before the brothers fell out - a small mercy from Somnus it seems, and a few black chocobo feathers. What Ardyn really wanted was the long-since extinct flower petrified by age that was pressed amongst his white robe. It's scent reminded him of his journeys, and it was a gift from a young boy - whose face Ardyn had long forgotten - as a thank you for saving the boy's elder sister. As childish as it sounded, he wanted to be reminded of when the people actually loved him. He figured it might help him relax seeing as the last time he was free, he was hunted down like some common daemon. He wanted to ask the Nilfheim tailor if he can get some sort of shawl with the flowers embellished on it. It would add a lovely balance to his new, very dark suit. He might even finally wear the scarf his mother left him. It never went with any of his white clothes.

When there was a gentle knock at the bedroom door again, Ardyn opened it fully, where once again the two men greeted each other with smiles. But, feeling impatient, Ardyn just took the deerskin bag and the sewing caddy from his friend and closed the door.

Upending the bag over the red silk covers of his new bed, Ardyn hurriedly searched for the petrified flower. Upon locating the purple bloom, he cradled it in his fingers as if it were a defenceless child and laid in on the stylish, glossed white writing desk facing the giant window. He will fetch the tailor later.

Returning to his bed, Ardyn gingerly touched his mother's scarf with the tips of his fingers. Any scent of her would be long gone, but the soft touch of cashmere had him remembering his mother's face in extraordinary detail. He always loved fiddling with the end of the scarf as it fell from her shoulders when they sat together, and eventually she left it to him when her time in the world was up. It had odd golden patterns on them that Ardyn had never really paid any mind to, it was the colour that entranced him. Twining it round his fingers, Ardyn lifts it off the bed and wraps it around his neck. The bright red added a beautiful splash of colour to his pleated white shirt.

Just to compare, Ardyn picks up his tattered healer robe by the shoulder pads and walks over to the black framed free standing mirror once again. 

Holding it full-length, the off-white robe looked startlingly simple to his new attire. Which he supposed was the point; back then he wanted for nothing other than his people's happiness. Now... now he couldn't really place his finger on what he wanted. He needed to visit his brother's descendants first, get their side of the story. Then obviously try to reclaim what was stolen from him. But this is a new world, one Somnus swore would never know Ardyn existed. So he would have to play his cards carefully, scope out what this day and age is all about, then come up with a plan.

Facing the spawn of Somnus... the idea suddenly made some red hot adrenaline shoot through Ardyn's ancient veins. Would they look like him? Would they look like their father? Ardyn always looked more like his mother. Would he see any of his mother in them? The possibilities when it came to genes were endless. Ardyn would have to be prepared for what he was about to face, and not let it play with his temper.

Suddenly, for the first time in hundreds of years, Ardyn's knees felt weak and he sank to the plush floor as long-buried emotions came surging to the surface at the thought of his family. And the family he could never bear if he found a woman to love. He was robbed of so much. All for his devotion to the Gods.

Burying his face in the tattered white robe, Ardyn began to shake and howl. Years of buried rage and grief poured from his golden eyes and ripped from his throat. He was beyond caring if anyone heard. His eyes stung and his face was getting raw from all the salt in in the tears. 

It felt like hours, but truthfully it was only a few minutes, such was the intensiveness of the outburst. Eventually, Ardyn's nose became too blocked to breathe and his throat grew painfully hoarse. There was a huge wet stain on his white robe too, all the emotion he had denied himself of releasing. 

Ardyn stared at the robe with unseeing eyes as they welled with tears again. Hands shaking with rage, Ardyn frenziedly tore the robe into slithers, attempting to shred the memories, the man he once was, and the past itself. Once there was nothing left to tear, all the energy left Ardyn's body and he slumped onto his back staring at the white ceiling and the heavy-set black glossed ceiling fan.

Ardyn lie there dazed for a few moments, mentally gathering himself back together. He needed to go to Lucis. What he may find there or what path that may set him on was irrelevant right now, he just had to make the first step. And try as he might, no matter how much he tried to deny the past, or physically destroy remnants of it, the past will never leave. You can never run from it, it makes you who you are, for better or worse.

Hauling himself back into the sitting position, Ardyn looks at himself in the mirror. His deep-set eyes were swollen, his face was red raw and his hair was sticking to the side of his face, plastered to his skin by the tears he'd shed.

"Hmph... could almost pass for a real human." he mutters bitterly to himself. Using his knees, Ardyn gets in the crouch position to fetch the sewing caddy off the bed then settles back down onto the carpet. Pulling off his trench coat and gathering the strips of his healer robe, Ardyn began to stitch the shreds into his coat's shoulder pads. He was careful to make sure to make some sort of pattern - it would be an insult to the hard work the Niflheim tailor put into this gorgeous ensemble if had tacky strips just hanging off it. And Ardyn was also careful to make sure the new addition did not stretch below his elbows lest it get in the way of any duty he needed to perform. This way the past is always with him to serve as both a reminder and as his motivation, but also as a lesson that no matter what, he cannot outrun nor forgive what was done to him. This way he was reconciling his past with his present.

He sat there, totally focused on his sewing, aware only of the stitching in front of him as he tried to make sure it was exact - his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth every now and then as he concentrated so intently - and he paid no mind to the few rogue tears that still fell from his eyes.

In the corner of the room, through the crack in the bedroom door, Verstael had seen the whole spectacle. He had come to ask Ardyn if he was hungry, and if he was what would he like, when he had heard the animalistic wail coming from inside the room. That's when he decided to peek in, just to check his friend was okay. He wanted to comfort his new friend, be there for him to share his pain, but decided it would be better to wait for the immortal to come to him if need be. Ardyn was a King after all, and Kings do not take kindly to being treated as children.

So, silently giving his regards to his friend, Verstael closed the door properly and strolled down the corridor. He had a lot of work to do, but if Ardyn came to him, he would listen. Until then, he would treat Ardyn no differently to any other esteemed colleague. A bit of normalcy and kindness may do wonders for him.


End file.
